30.

So here it is. I officially waved goodbye to my twenties and stepped, lightly trying not to wake the world, into my 30's yesterday. Emotion report: completely effing mixed. On the one hand, I look back on my life - which I feel is inevitable anytime one reaches a milestone, to look and see how we got to the milestone - and I've had a pretty, SCRATCH THAT, absolutely incredible life. I mean, its certainly not a perfect history or ideal. Its not like I haven't worked really, really hard for everything I've done, I certainly have. Its not like I haven't gone through life-changing-ly awful times. Or wished I'd done some things differently. But when I mix it all in the pot o' life and sample the outcome, its pretty awesome. So then there's that other hand. The other side of my effing mixed reaction to turning 30. I feel a little lost. I feel a little like, 'Where the hell am I going?' Most people my age are having families and trading, in a lot of ways, their own selfish experiences for their childrens'. Me, I'm still selfish. So in that case, what is my next selfishly exciting experience? I watched Motorcyle Diaries the other night. As the story goes two friends decide to travel by motorcycle across Argentina, Chile, Peru, Colombia, and Venezuela before graduating from medical school and having to grow up. Maybe I need to do something like that. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm itching for a new experience.

And as I sit here at my favorite, little coffee shop reading Harper's Bazaar magazine, I just realized when they give you "tips for great-looking skin at any age!" I'm suddenly not in the 20's section anymore! Ha! No more photos of Kate Hudson or Lauren Conrad, traded instead for Gwyneth Paltrow. Which I guess isn't so bad considering she's pretty great.

I guess more and more I'm just thinking about how I want to make my mark. Where is my legacy taking me and how will I carve it out to mean something? Until I figure it out I guess I'll simply keep checking ticket prices to S. America.